Neve chuckled. “Weren’t you listening? Alethea didn’t care about money. She liked him because he was different. Don’t get more different than a Kaolin in Pelago. Besides,” she said, pouring herself a shot and downing it, “it pissed her mother off and there’s nothing a daughter enjoys more than that.”

Vada finished her drink. “Thanks for the cig and the gossip, Neve,” she said, tossing a couple aurums on the counter. “See you around.”

Once they were outside, Agnes gulped the cool air.

“It is a lot to be processing,” Vada agreed.

“My father met my mother here?” she cried. “In Pelago? In Ithilia? In this bar?” Agnes leaned against the wall of Bas’s Secret and put her hands on her knees. “No one ever told me. Not even Eneas. Why would they keep this from me?”

“Your father is hating Pelago,” Vada said. “Why would he wish to admit he met his wife here?”

That was a fair point.

“Where is this inn Neve mentioned?” Agnes asked. “The one my father is staying at.”

The one he had stayed at before, she said. It was bizarre to learn her father had regular spots in Ithilia.

“I am thinking she meant the Old Waves Inn,” Vada said.

“Take me there,” Agnes said.

The Street of Leaves was a narrow, winding road paved with a patchwork of smooth slate. The inn was perched at its top—Agnes had a clear view of Banrissa, illuminated against the night sky at the summit of the cliff.

Agnes and Vada approached the inn, which was made of white stucco with seashells inlaid along its door. The roof was simple and thatched, a curl of smoke winding its way out of the chimney. Light spilled from the large front window, open to let out the sound of voices. Agnes heard her father say, “We leave tomorrow.” Then he chuckled. “Ambrosine is going to bring the whole Triumvirate down on her.”

Her heart skipped and she looked at Vada and pressed her finger to her lips. Vada nodded and they crept forward, keeping out of the light.

Kiernan and Xavier sat together in the corner, right next to the open window. A map was laid out on the table before them, stretched between two mugs of dark beer and a plate of grilled sardines.

“We can’t underestimate her,” Kiernan said. “If she’s confident enough to openly attack Princess Rahel’s ship, she must have some plan in place.”

“Why, Ezra. I didn’t know you had so much admiration for her.”

Kiernan’s ruddy cheeks turned redder. “It’s not admiration, it’s the truth. I didn’t want to come back here at all, if you recall. You promised me—”